Dad, what do you know about vampires?
by Rae666
Summary: Sammy’s smart. He’s seen the movies, he knows the signs… so what does he do when his brother starts displaying certain symptoms that might just mean he’s no longer human. Weechester. Humour fic. One Shot.


**0o0o0 Dad, what do you know about vampires? 0o0o0**

Summary: Sammy's smart. He's seen the movies, he knows the signs… so what does he do when his brother starts displaying certain symptoms that might just mean he's no longer human. Weechester. Humour fic. One Shot.

Approx ages - Sam 11, Dean 15

Disclaimer: The usual… don't own 'em… dream of it, wish for it but doesn't look like it's gonna happen. DAMN YOU!

This has been half written for awhile but I decided to finish it for the Halloween challenge over on Ungen so I really hope you enjoy!

**0o0o0**

Samuel Winchester was always a smart kid. He was top of his class in pretty much everything, hell he even rocked in gym. But his intelligence wasn't limited to school; he was a geek at home too. Drove his brother and his father crazy and ever since he found out monsters were real, he was constantly asking question after question after question.

Yep, Samuel Winchester was a regular Lord of Questions, King of Disturbances and a royal pain in John Winchester's ass when he was constantly there, bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting… waiting… just waiting for his father to look up from his paperwork and acknowledge him.

Didn't his father understand this was important? Hadn't his father _noticed_?

It was late afternoon, the day after Halloween… a glorious Saturday which meant no school for the whole weekend. But it also meant he had nothing else to preoccupy his mind with, homework done and dusted, television playing nothing but the daytime rubbish and Dean… Dean was still in their room, fast asleep.

Which was why Sam was bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of his father, waiting… just waiting… clucking his tongue and tapping his hand against his thigh to a rhythm that only he could hear.

"What is it Sam?" John asked gruffly without looking up from his paperwork.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, biting his lip for a moment as he thought about how to phrase his question, "Da-ad… do we… err, do we have any crosses?"

That got his father's attention and John looked up at his son, eyes narrowed as he studied him carefully, "What the hell type of question is that?"

"Just a question." Sam muttered sheepishly in reply, but undeterred none the less.

And John sighed, hitching a thumb over his shoulder towards the keys sitting on the worktop behind him, "Check the trunk, there should be a couple in there."

Sam nodded eagerly and grabbed the keys from the table, immediately turning to go back the way he had come. He barely even heard his father mutter behind, "Crosses… what the hell's he want with crosses?"

But Sam had a very good reason to be playing around with crosses. After all, he'd learned something valuable not too long ago. Monsters were real. They didn't just sleep under your bed or hide in your closet, they were out there and they were bad. He'd seen the movies, he'd read the books and no matter which way he looked at it, his thoughts all came back to one point…

Dean was in trouble.

After taking Sam on the candy trek the night before, Dean had snuck back out to meet up with a group of other kids the same age… maybe a little older. It wasn't exactly the first time he'd snuck out but it was the first time he hadn't rolled in until nearly four maybe five o'clock that morning (Sam had known because he'd had to quickly flip the horror movie he was watching off and pretend to be asleep whilst Dean had stumbled into the bathroom).

Maybe the time alone wasn't completely un-Dean like but Sam was worried all the same. The town, everything… it felt off. First of all, the people who had invited Dean out in the first place seemed… well, they were all skulky and they gave Sam the creeps. He'd met them the other night when the pair had snuck out to the arcade. They looked like trouble, acted like trouble and Sam was pretty damn certain that they were trouble and now he was wondering just what kind of trouble.

What was funny was Sam figured he wouldn't have even made the connection and realised what was going on if he hadn't quizzed Dean about his costume the night before. Dean was at that age where dressing up was 'lame' and Sam knew that, he knew he'd get to that age one day too but still, it was Halloween! He had to dress up.

"_Just think of me as a Lost Boy Sammy."_ Dean had finally relented as he'd pulled on his leather jacket, shooting Sam a warning look, _"And I don't mean the damn Peter Pan kind."_

Grabbing the first cross he found from the trunk, Sam headed back with a purpose.

Dean had been turned into a vampire and Sam was gonna prove it.

If he could prove it… then maybe they could cure it before it got too late. He had to work fast if the sunlight was anything to go by…

Yeah, that had been the next tell tale sign. The sunlight. When he'd gone to wake Dean earlier as his brother laid in bed, one arm hanging over the covers and his mouth slightly open, allowing drool to pool on his pillow, Sam had opened the curtains. The daylight had streamed into the boys' room, brightening it up so everyone could see its impression of a junkyard more clearly.

"_For God's sake Sammy!"_ Dean had complained, immediately pulling the covers up over his head as if the light had physically hurt him. _"Dude! I'm trying to sleep!"_

Only when Sam had closed the curtains did Dean emerge from the covers, returning to the position he had been in moments before. And that had led him to his father.

He'd seen the movies, he knew the tests. If Dean had been turned into a vampire by a bunch of blood-sucking teens, he needed to make sure.

Creeping back into the room he shared with Dean, he crawled over to his sleeping brother, the wooden cross digging into his hand as he gripped it tightly. Sneaking slowly, he eased himself up and quickly shook his brother before scooting back down to the floor, receiving only a moan for his efforts.

He jumped forward once more, pushing his brother and leaping back, raising the cross ready. This time Dean swatted him, arm lashing out and catching the corner of the cross, swearing like a sailor as pain shot up from the spot he caught. But before Dean even had the chance to see what had caused the sudden pain, Sam was scurrying from the room and slamming the door closed.

"No…" He breathed; denial evident in his voice, "I need more evidence… It was just a coincidence… it means absolutely nothing. For all I know he just caught the edge…"

Hearing footsteps from behind the door, he ran towards the couch, throwing himself over so he landed in a heap on the cushions… oh yeah, his flushed features sooo didn't make him look guilty. Dean emerged from the room, rubbing at his hand as he squinted and searched the living area, the light hurting his eyes. Hazel green orbs landed on Sam and the youngest squirmed, turning away quickly and concealing the cross in the sofa.

Without a single word, Dean stalked over towards the bathroom, all the while sending a death glare in Sam's direction.

As soon as the door was closed, Sam was up and rushing towards the kitchen calling out for his Dad. He came to an abrupt stop, staring quizzically at his father as the older man sat with his eyes raised to the ceiling whispering something like, "Please God, I ask for one day… just one day for me to do without anymo-"

"Dad…" Sam cut in, bouncing again and waiting… waiting.

"Yes Sam?" John sighed, closing his eyes and bringing his hand up to rub his temple.

Sam looked up to the ceiling, frowning and pursing his lips in thought, "Who were you talking to?"

Opening his eyes, John looked up at the same spot and shook his head, "Doesn't matter, he wasn't listening anyway…"

"Oookay…" Sam whistled, his face expressing concern for his father, "Well! Anyway… can we have garlic pizza tonight?"

"Garlic pizza?" The older man questioned, lowering his gaze to his son again, he smiled before continuing, "Sam, you hate garlic, remember? Don't think I've forgotten about the last time… you were gonna use one of those metal files to file your tongue 'cause you hated it that much."

"I just thought…" Sam started, stopping himself before going any further. It was true, he hated the smell, he hated the taste, hell, half the time he couldn't stand the sight but it was all for a good cause, right?

John raised an eyebrow, waiting for his son to continue but Sam couldn't think of any way of putting it that wouldn't make his father suspicious. He couldn't know about Dean, not yet… not until Sam was sure.

_Damn, plan B then._

"Err, Dad…"

"Yes Sam?"

"How do you make holy water?" Sam asked so quickly that he thought he was going to trip over the words.

"First crosses, then garlic pizza… now holy water? What are you up to?"

"Nothing." He answered a little too quickly, shuffling from one foot to the other, "Just wanna know. You never know when we could need something like that."

"Me - all the time. You - not just yet kiddo." John half smiled but his young son just pouted at him, the big round eyes staring up at him.

"Please?" Sam asked, pleading, begging.

John shook his head, "I think it's time you told me what's going on Sam."

He'd figured it out. Sam had gone a step too far asking about the holy water, he should have just found another way… Reluctantly, he opened his mouth, readying himself to spill to gory details.

"Dean's been turned into a vampire. He snuck out last night with a bunch of kids and I'm pretty sure they're the ones who turned him! He's been weird all day, his face is all pale and his eyes look all red and sore. He can't stand the sunlight, and when I used the cross on him, he got angry."

"You're sure?" John asked; voice deadly serious.

"A-ha. We have to do something Dad… we have to cure it."

"Sammy, I'm sorry…" John started, his face solemn and set, "No amount of holy water is gonna cure Dean. No magic spells are gonna get rid of what he's got… He's stuck with it Sammy."

John had already figured out Dean had been out late the night before and he found it ironic that his son's own actions ended up being the perfect punishment for the not so perfect crime. He stood up and walked over to Sam, placing a hand on his shoulder as he lowered himself so they were eye to eye.

"He'll be okay Sammy. I swear to you, he's not gonna become some blood thirsty monster." He smiled, ruffling Sam's hair as he pulled himself back up, "I can also tell you that he ain't gonna wanna touch another drop of alcohol for a helluva long time."

**0o0o0**


End file.
